FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

Welcome to my blog!

Hello my name is: Icicle Audacity. All I see are ghxsts. I'm the misguided stride for self improvement - a sadistic, futuristic machine. A hollow cold emitted through vibrant lights, it’s a warm as wool winter but I’ve got a chill I can’t shake. This is what I am & I think I’m fine in my own misguidance. My bones are frozen, my marrow has turned to ice - my body is just a body, a corpse without a head. I'm just a vessel & my brain has long been dead.

Watch this timeless speech from Charlie Chaplin which couldn't be more relevant today. Taken from his 1940 movie The Great Dictator, Charlie delivers a hair raising speech that we should all take a moment to think about! The man famous for not speaking, comes up with one of the greatest speeches ever. Capable Men

“I think that sometimes love gets in the way of itself – you know, love interrupts itself. We want things so much that we sabotage them.”

You can let some things bleed completely dry. There used to be. . .There always used to be this excitement like what would it be like to create something, love what I’m doing and get paid for it. If I could just do that, what would that be like?

I don’t have those inspirations like that so much anymore.

Almost 10 years later of working in the same box, one part of my brain says I’m tired of coming up with things within the confinement of this box but I force myself to do it because I know something good can come out of it. . .If I really work inside of it. Inspiration and work ethic – they really ride right next to each other, although sometimes not completely in sync, I’ll admit. Sometimes you’re not inspired to create something you have to create. Sometimes it’s just work and you just do it cause you’re supposed to. . .Maybe by the time you finish you say “That looks good” or “that’s pretty good” and that’s it and you just move on. That’s it. Not every day of your life you’re going to wake up and the clouds will part and the rays of heaven are going to come down and you’re going to create something spectacular. Sometimes you just have to get in there and force yourself to work and maybe something good will come out of it. That was one of the things. . .Whether I like it or not I’m going to try and force myself into it. Force myself to do something creative. Deadlines and things like that make you creative. Opportunity and telling yourself things like “you’ve got all the time in the world, you got all the colours on the pallet and anything you want!” — That shit right there just kills creativity.

When you go out and everything’s all pre-planned and everyone sets everything up for you and the table’s all set and nice and perfect. . .Nothing’s going to happen, at least not for me. You’re gonna go out and do this boring shit. Constrict yourself to force yourself to create.

Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don’t you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can’t think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you’re supposed to read? Do you think every thing you’re supposed to think? Buy what you’re told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet someone. Stop the excessive shopping. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you’re alive. If you don’t claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned.

“Isn’t a person just a collection of their mistakes, and also their, kind of, undoing of their mistakes? I mean, what else are you? You know, you’re always. . .you’re always just the reaction to the bad parts of yourself, I think. And I think that’s what is kind of like, a driving motivation behind any human being that’s. . .who wants to continue to grow and live life. ‘Cause they’re looking at their flaws and trying to, go beyond it. And I think that a person, you know, essentially dies when they think that they found themselves, ya know? Unless you want to admit that you, yourself, are not an individual, and are just part of a whole. . .movement of ideas, and thought, and culture, and humanity and, furthermore, the universe, and everything – unless you really feel like that, and you’re walking through walls, you know, you are always trying to find yourself. And it’s usually a person who believes that they’ve found “the answer” – found “the end” – that there actually is a psychological end. And then what’s the point of, you know, doing anything after that?”

True forgiveness is for the forgiver — true harm is that which can not be released.

Try.

When love and selfishness find themselves against their nature as one, the damage done can not be fixed by anyone but the victim, who must decide to live again. Seek love where selfishness can not find it — that’s our choice, that’s our responsibility. Forgiveness is for the purest love, the love that has no beginning or end, they transcend the boundaries of choice — that can change but must always be — that can never be forgotten.

To some people, you can never say goodbye. You can leave, but they will forever be a whisper — like truth, as truth, a truth — in your heart. There’s no walking away from a ghxst of yourself and remaining

whole.

I know always, there is the passing — we layer the bones with skin transient to inform the skeleton of what can be. The give & take is a sophisticated rhythm. I have been built for demolition to know the wisdom of winter trees. I have received love to know loss, to recognize the end as the inception.

“Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.”

When all these paths dissolve & we drop inwards into convalescence, we’ll rain everything into this emptiness & I’ll find you again for the first time, fingers touching like sunbeams that have traveled the universe to find it ends where it begins. I’m confronted by feelings familiar, a word too often granted sympathy & seek refuge in the bliss of distractions that pierce the mind & drain the heavy fluids which bloat it, crushing its lungs — killing it like a man choking to death on experience.

I live for the nights walking these streets. Simple toned colours pass me by in a richness of dull shades. The sound of vehicles, the same yet different from myself, drawing my attention every now & then — a second of interaction instantly splits into silence again.

The clouds of the sky consume the light from the city like an endlessly stretching moon as I coast along the surface of a sun. The streets have become more familiar, they grow disjointed & isolated, poxed with flakes of decay tearing across an otherwise serene calm. I’m one of those specks & I feel the familiar sense of fear & excitement as the world starts to close up around me more & more with every step — large concrete & steel cage bars falling into place like a net sweeping up from its hiding-place in the leaves & dirt.

This place is filled with the locking suspicious eyes, with one another we refuse to cure our own disease. The city grasps me tightly in its fist, there’s no more feeling or sense of anything else. All of my options have developed into alleyways or one way streets that all look the same. There’s nothing but forward — nothing except the sound of the tires spinning & holding frantically to the pavement & the feeling of impending consequence like being alive has become a sin.

It’s easy to lose track of direction, then space, then time, then yourself, not always in that order.

Searching for something new. Something new, something exciting — all so you can watch it from a distance & garnish your isolation with a feeling of accomplishment.

A populated area now, more intertwining streets, more bodies moving back & forth through them. I walk around the edges like a wolf — like a wolf around a camp fire, looking at the unfamiliar scene with wonder & curiosity.

I tilt my head back and celebrate through lamentation all things past and to pass – it sounds like wailing to my ears and it feels like laughter. Cut in two by a brilliant light around which the universe also turns, I feel everything draw back like the hand of a child and with a trembling smile, I whisper, again and again, in audacity – in relief: I love.

I hope you never have to know the marvel of sunlight through the parting clouds – it arrives and clutches something heavy and I know everything at once in cycles, like all the past and future are folded into a singularity and re-expanding in deep, fluttering breaths.

The covered sun is a little cloying, but it seems it’s the proper medium to play to the rhythms of the world around me. Music set to metronomic thoughts, the needle on a record – the harmonies of conflict:

“Searching for a pillar of strength in a confusing world. Your eyes tell me all I need to know, you’re reaching out for warmth in the cold. You try to lose yourself in someone else, but even in a crowded room you’ll always feel so alone. But there’s beauty in these moments that we spent by ourselves even if it’s hard to see sometimes, like a pretty face obscured behind a veil of tears. “I need” is such an ugly phrase when it falls from your lips in a stranger’s voice like a whisper of defeat. I know it’s hard to feel whole when you’re broken inside so learn to wrap your arms around yourself, cradle your head and dry your salt stained eyes. Because there’s beauty in these moments that we spend by ourselves even if it’s hard to see sometimes like a pretty face obscured behind a veil of tears. This is what I’ve learned: Don’t search for solace in another’s embrace. Everyone that we hold so dear gets lost in the static of the passing years. So, learn to be alone. Find comfort in solitude. Harden your heart and build unbreakable will. It’s the only way you’ll ever survive this world.”

Getting blunted by the light and of the skyline, anchorless, foundationless. Holding onto hope, and waiting for high times. It’s hopeless when you’re young, it’s hopeless when you’re cold, anchorless, foundationless – hunting for a home base. What can we call home? Bottles and smoke, the air is so cold. The sand is soaked, and it continues to pour. I live on the North Shore, you live by the bay, and we’re fucked tonight because we just missed the last train. We built this place for us. We built a home for us. We built a refuge from the noise of the world, where you can go when you’ve been burned by school, and you hate your parents’ home. We built a home for us. Bottles and smoke, and this air is so cold. The sand is soaked, and it continues to pour. Where can you go when you’ve been burned by school, and you hate your parents’ home? You go to Cates. You to the 16th. You break yourself at China Creek. The New York Theatre in the late fall. 605 Mountain Highway, Seylynn Hall. Crosstown Traffic. Escape to Troll Beach. Commercial, Clark, Hastings, Granville, and Main Street. 3rd and Balacava, the summer sun goes down, and as the night infects our part of town – we’re home.

“People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are “The Advertisers” and they are laughing at you.

You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity. Fuck that.

Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.

You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.”